The Fellowship of the Cookie
by ConfirmTheOriginOfFire
Summary: Sarumon gets a craving for radiation cookies, the Shire goes on a diet, and it's up to Frodo to keep everyone clean! Oh yeah, and Martha Stewart bakes a cake. Oh, just read it already!! CHAPTER 4 UP!!!
1. Shadowriders get laid??

Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Cookie!

Um…hi. I don't own Lord of the Rings (J.R.R. Tolkien does) or any of the LOTR characters, although I DID ask my parents for Sam for Christmas. No offense to people who are on diets…it wouldn't hurt for me to lose a few pounds myself. But it's all for laughs so don't be mad. And also, to die-hard LOTR fans: the character names are dropping out of my memory like dead flies! Don't be mad if I have to say "the elf," "the dude," or even "the short dude" every once in a while!

It was Bilbo Baggins's birthday party, and Martha Stewart showed up with a 100-foot birthday cake for him. (You'd be surprised how much those hobbits eat!) Here is the ingredient list: 1,000,000 cups flour; 10,000 pounds butter; 50,000 cups sugar; 5,000 tablespoons vanilla; 12,000 pounds whipped cream(for the frosting); 90,000 strawberries; 10,000 sliced peaches; 12,000 pounds blueberries; 14, 000 sliced apples; and 1 eggroll, as well as other undisclosed ingredients. About 15 hobbits had allergic reactions to the secret ingredients. Oddly enough, they were all allergic to one thing, and that was petroleum jelly.

Anyway, the hobbits finished off the cake, even those who were dying of allergic reactions. They stuffed their faces with other fatty foods too, and gained a lot of weight as a result, except for Frodo, who was grounded for laughing at Gandolf when he came to the shire for the party, and wasn't allowed to have any cake or food for two weeks. Oh yeah, good 'ol uncle Bilbo hung him upside down for three days too.

All the hobbits went on diets to lose weight, and Frodo was stuck with carrot sticks and melon and low-fat water for breakfast, lunch, and dinner because the shire was no longer importing cake or fatty foods. He wasn't even allowed to have Cheerios.

"Dammit, uncle Bilbo, gimme my cherrios!"

"I'll give you a cheerio! CHEERIO!"

Bilbo grabbed Frodo by the pants and threw him into the snow(which was odd, because it was the middle of the summer). He flew right out of the pants and hit the street.

"Oh lookie here, I've got your pants, Frodo!" Bilbo waved the pants around like a flag.

"Gimme my pants, dammit!"

"Why don't you come and get them you tight-assed momma's boy!"

"DON'T TALK ABOUT MY ASS!" Frodo screamed and came charging at Bilbo at 10000000 miles per hour. Well, it wasn't enough to get past the hard oak door that Bilbo slammed just as Frodo was about to hit him. Instead, Frodo whacked his head and bounced back into the snow.

"Shit! Now he's got my cherrios and my carrot sticks AND my pants! …. My diapers too."

"Go away," Bilbo said to him through a window.

"GAHHH!" Frodo yelled, picking up a convenient nearby brick and hurling it at the window. Well, he forgot (actually, he never knew in the first place) that Bilbo used the ring of power to make the windows harder than diamonds, which made his house a veritable fortress. The brick bounced back and whacked Frodo in the head.

"GAAA-AAA-AAA-AAA-AAAH!" He jumped up and down, barefoot, with no pants, in the middle of the snowy road.

"Hey crazy man!" a shadowrider said. "Take this to Sarumon, I'm too busy getting laid to do it tonight."

"Hey, I know you!" Frodo said. "You're the bad man in that book by J.R.R. Tolkien! And so is Sarumon! I'm not helping you! So there!"

"You wanna get laid right?"

"Yeah! Of course I do!"

"So be a bad guy. The chicks always go for the bad guys. The good guys might always win, but they never get laid."

"So let me get this straight. If I become a _bad_ guy, I'll lose and be hated by the reader, and I'll die a miserable, miserable death at the hands of a tight-assed momma's boy, but I'll get laid all the time for decades and decades to come?"

"… … Yeah, that's pretty much the bad guy's life in a nutshell."

"I'LL DO IT THEN!!"


	2. The old geezer dies!

BLord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Cookie! Part 2

Um…hi. I don't own Lord of the Rings (J.R.R. Tolkien does) or any of the LOTR characters, although I DID ask my parents for Sam for Christmas. No offense to people who are on diets…it wouldn't hurt for me to lose a few pounds myself. But it's all for laughs so don't be mad. And also, to die-hard LOTR fans: the character names are dropping out of my memory like dead flies! Don't be mad if I have to say "the elf," "the dude," or even "the short dude" every once in a while!B

"So, here's your assignment. You are to bring this package to Sarumon before it goes bad. So hurry!"

"Um…what's in the package?" Frodo asked.

"Chocolate chip cookies with various amounts of radiation infused. Sarumon's favorite. Anyway, I hear this town is on a diet, so watch your step. You could be ambushed at any second."

Frodo thought about this for a second. _Get ambushed, get laid. Don't get ambushed, don't get laid. Get…LAID!! I'm getting laid!_

"Yes yes yes!"

"Um…I'm happy to hear you're so enthusiastic about this. Now hurry, before Bilbo comes out with the paddle and starts kicking ass."

"Uh…yeah!"

Frodo ran down the snowy road, package under his arm. He ran, he ran, he ran, and he ran…and found himself at the next door neighbor's house. Nevertheless, he kept running…everything was being shown in slow motion…and—would you believe it?—he slipped and fell down!

"Mmmm…I smell something GOOD. What is it?"

Frodo looked up through the slush to see Sam. [WE LOVE HIM!] The chubby blond hobbit was wearing his favorite outfit, but not exactly in the right places. His pants were on his head, his shirt wrapped around his waist like a loincloth, and his socks and shoes on his hands. His cloak was thrown around his shoulders.

"Um…what the heck happened to you, dude? Your clothes are all mixed up!"

"Oh, you think so too?" asked Sam. "Well, so did many people, even Gandalf…ah, screw 'em all. What's that delicious aroma? It does so smell like chocolate and uranium…"

"I don't have any cookies," Frodo said nervously.

"Oooo! Bad boy, you're not following the diet. Give me a cookie and I won't tell."

"I don't have any cookies."

"Do so."

"Do not."

"Do so."

"DO NOT!" Frodo screamed, jumping up and running away. Sam still hadn't taken off those holiday pounds and couldn't follow quickly enough. However, it wasn't needed, because Frodo was stopped soon enough…by two falling anvils. Actually, they weren't anvils at all. It was Merry and Pippin. 

"Give us the freaking cookies!" they yelled in unison. "You can't hide them forever!"

"Oh yes I can!" Frodo screamed, kicking them both in a pretty bad place. They let go, and he started running again.

"The pain…the pain…," Merry groaned.

"Let it out…Merry…let it out," Pippin croaked.

"Hey, have you two seen…oh damn! He's getting away!" Sam yelled. "COME BACK WITH THOSE COOKIES!"

So all three chased after him. Gandalf saw them and followed them with…um…special wizardy powers. Sam, Merry, and Pippin were pinning Frodo to the ground and tickling his armpits.

"No…no…stop it…aha ha…that tickles!"

"Yesss! The cookies!" Sam said, taking the package from him. He held it away from Merry and Pippin's greedy arms and opened it, eating a cookie.

"No…." Frodo groaned in despair.

"What the…what's happening to me!"

Sam was growing! He grew and grew and grew until he was…almost the size of a normal man. "Cool! You guys are all the way down there!"

"Give me one goddammit!" Merry yelled, snatching the package away, but only after climbing onto Pippin's shoulders. He ate a cookie and grew as well! Pippin ate one and soon Frodo was the only short one left.

"I got the cookies, so I should get to have one too!" he pleaded. "Please give me a cookie!"

"Why should we? You're the greedy one who wanted to keep them all to yourself! And you _know_ we're on diets, too!"

"Well, I just wanted to get laid, okay!"

"Laid? How are cookies gonna get you laid?"

So Frodo told them everything the shadowrider told him. Sam, Merry, and Pippin all sat with their mouths hanging open, in the snow.

"So it's that easy?" Sam asked at last.

"Yeah, and now that we're tall, it's gonna be easier!"

"YEAH!"

"Hold it right there!"

Gandalf came out of the bushes. "I heard the whole thing and I must say I am outraged at you boys for several reasons! 1.) Frodo, you talked to a shadowrider!; 2.) All of you are plotting to go over to the dark side!; 3.) You used a non-magical, scientifically explainable object to make yourselves get bigger!; and last but not least 4.) You're planning to get laid without me!"

"Party pooper at 3:00!" Pippin cried. All three hobbits leapt up and started running up a hill.

"You boys can't join the dark side! You'll get laid more than I do and I get laid more than anybody in Middle Earth, except maybe Golem! I can't let you break my record!"

So he chased them up the hill. The boys were running and using the glowing, radioactive cookies as their lamp, but Gandalf had nothing and kept tripping over things.

"Stop! I order you to stop! I---ah!"

He had a heart attack, fell down, and rolled down the hill, 100% dead. The hobbits stopped to watch.

"You know, I always wondered how the old geezer managed to climb treacherous mountains and jump across pits without having a coronary," Frodo said thoughtfully.

"Should we have a breif moment of respect?" asked Merry. "…. …. Nah."

They laughed and continued up the hill, radioactive cookies leading the way.


	3. Strider!?!?!

****

Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Cookie! Part 3

Um…hi. I don't own Lord of the Rings (J.R.R. Tolkien does) or any of the LOTR characters, although I DID ask my parents for Sam for Christmas. No offense to people who are on diets, are short, and can't jump…it wouldn't hurt for me to lose a few pounds myself, and I suck at basketball too. But it's all for laughs so don't be mad. And also, to die-hard LOTR fans: the character names are dropping out of my memory like dead flies! Don't be mad if I have to say "the elf," "the dude," or even "the short dude" every once in a while!

"So where the heck are we now?" Sam asked.

"What does it look like, genius? We're in a cornfield."

All four hobbits looked around. They'd been traveling all night, and the sun rose suddenly and without warning, killing that flower that only blooms at midnight instantly. And they saw it was true, they were in a cornfield! Merry breathed in deeply.

"Ah…fresh air, green grass, pretty flowers… … … I GOTTA GET OUT OF HERE!!"

"AHHH!"

All four hobbits screamed in terror and started running for their lives. But they didn't get that far, because they bumped into somebody.

"Where are you four going in such a rush?"

They looked up to see Strider. He towered way above them, even though they were now normal size, thanks to the radioactive cookies.

"Hey! You're not supposed to come in until _later_ in the book!"

"Well, you are all so PITIFUL that I knew I had to interfere before you really embarrass yourselves."

The hobbits stood up and faced the ranger. He wasn't wearing everyone's favorite ranger outfit, though. Instead of the old fashioned clothes, Strider was wearing very baggy pants, a huge T-shirt, a sports sweatband on his forehead, and lots and lots of chains, most of them fake. Also, he had combed out his hair a lot. But it wasn't hanging down straight as was the style among rangers today—it had puffed up to look more like an afro. A very huge, unsightly afro. He was carrying something blue and mysterious…with two black straps…something that anyone from the normal world would call a _backpack_.

"What happened to your clothes? It looks like your wardrobe got hit by a tornado!"

"Shutup!" Strider barked. "It's the latest in trends. I thought it looked stupid, but when all the other rangers started wearing it I was lonely!!"

Frodo snickered. Merry bit his tongue and Pippin his cheek. Sam's cheeks were filling up with air. Then the moment of self-control was over. They all burst out into insane, hysterical laughter.

"I'm going to kill you all with this uzi!" Strider declared, pulling a gun out of his belt.

"Whoa, like that's gonna do anything to me," Frodo(who did not know about guns) said sarcastically. "If you had a _sword_, for instance, that might be different, but that's not a sword and you can't hurt us!"

Strider took aim at a friendly hobbit flying overhead in a glider.

"Heh heh! Hiya guys! I—whoa!"

He shot the wing of the glider, and with a loud noise, the glider whirled right through the air and crashed in a lake. The hobbit was parachuting to the ground, having jumped out before it crashed. However, the wind picked up and blew the hobbit into the lake.

"You were saying?" Strider asked. Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin were having second thoughts.

"Uh…sorry! We're so sorry! Please accept a cookie as a token of our apologies!"

"Cookies, eh?" He thought about that for a moment. "How'd you know I was on a diet?"

"Wait, you're on a diet too?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, and that's something you might wanna think about too."

"I AM on a diet!!"

"Right, right. Stupid Martha Stewart is a big hit at Bilbo's party, so she decides to launch a Middle-Earthwide crusade to deliver cake to the underprivileged hobbits, rangers, elves…and everyone else…Well, what are you gonna do. I'll take it!"

Frodo unwrapped the package and gave him a cookie. Although the glowing goodie made him suspicious, he wolfed it down. And he grew a third eye in the middle of his forehead.

"What the hell is this! Okay, what did you do to these cookies?"

"I didn't do anything to them," Frodo assured him. "But when I got 'em they were already spiked with radiation, which made us mutate and grow taller! And you got a third eye!"

"I DON'T WANT A THIRD EYE!" he screamed, grabbing Frodo by the shirt. "Why you little--!" He got ready to punch him in the face.

"Um…wait! Do you want to get laid??" Strider paused for a moment.

"By you? No, not particularly." He was about to punch him when Frodo yelled out again.

"No, not me! By a bunch of hot ladies for decades to come!"

Strider blinked and put him down. "I'm listening…"

"The Shadowrider gave me these cookies and told me to deliver them to Sarumon, which automatically makes me a bad guy, and according to the laws of the universe, the good guys never get laid. It's the bad guys who do! So we're going to deliver the cookies and get laid!"

Strider didn't have to think very long to make up his mind. "Okay, why not. I haven't been laid in years."

"Great! Now let's go!"

"Wait just a second!" an indignant voice called from behind them.


	4. Hey, is it just me, or does this guy's n...

****

Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Cookie! Part 3

Um…hi. I don't own Lord of the Rings (J.R.R. Tolkien does) or any of the LOTR characters, although I DID ask my parents for Sam and Merry and Pippin for Christmas. No offense to people who are on diets, are short, and can't jump…it wouldn't hurt for me to lose a few pounds myself, and I suck at basketball too. But it's all for laughs so don't be mad. And also, to die-hard LOTR fans: the character names are dropping out of my memory like dead flies! Don't be mad if I have to say "the elf," "the dude," or even "the short dude" every once in a while! And the made-up hobbit Mike-All Jorgen isn't actually in the book, duh.

Frodo and the others turned around quickly to see who dared to stop them on their great crusade to get laid. [HEY! That rhymes!] They saw an angry hobbit with the traditional hobbit clothes and red curly hair, dripping wet.

"You shot my glider down!" he yelled at Strider. "I'm suing!"

"No, please, don't sue me, I can't afford a lawyer," Strider begged.

"Well the state will hire one for you then," the hobbit replied coldly. "You know what? Forget the lawsuit. I'm gonna embarrass you. You must duel with me…and the loser gets pushed off a cliff attached to a glider by the ends of his toes with binder clips."

"Fair enough," Strider decided. "So let's duel!" He pulled out his gun again.

"Noo-oo! Not THAT kind of a duel."

"What kind, then?" the hobbits and Strider asked.

"I'll tell you. It's---"

Meanwhile, far far away, Biblo was ironing his shirts and accidentally ran the iron over his hand because he was too busy watching a bird outside his window, and screamed in pain so loud that it reached across the vast reaches of space and time and made the red-haired hobbit's statement inaudible to everyone but those right next to him, which doesn't include you.

"… … …You're bullshitting us," Merry said.

"No! I swear! Where _he_ comes from, they do it all the time!" He pointed to Strider.

"Me? I think you're bullshitting too. I have no idea what that is and I've never heard of it before, and I'm certainly not gonna believe it."

"Well, you're dressed like the people who play it. I thought you'd know. I thought you were _cool_. Of course, except for the fact that you shot my glider down…so are you gonna do it?"

"Of COURSE I am! Bring it on!"

"OK!" The red-haired hobbit grinned and slapped his hands together. "Let me get changed." He hid behind a rock.

"We could run like mad now," Frodo suggested in a whisper. "We _could_ get away."

"No," Strider said. "I can't live a truth. I must live a lie. Therefore, I must play the game this dude has lied to me about!"

"I'M DONE!" the hobbit yelled cheerfully, hopping out from behind the rock dressed in an old school basketball uniform. He had obviously toweled down, because he was no longer dripping lake water, and his curly hair had been combed out to make a big, red afro.

"Where'd you get that suit, the 99 cents rack?" Sam snickered.

"As a matter of fact, I got it from the salvation army for 1.00, if you don't mind. You were off by a whole cent!"

"Yeah, like that makes a lot of difference."

"Oh well. Anyway, you get changed into the jersey I left behind the rock. Quickly!"

While Strider was changing, the red-haired hobbit helped himself to a cookie. He grew almost to normal size as well. "Oh, by the way, I'm Mike-All Jorgen. What are you losers' names?"

"I'm Frodo Baggins."

"I'm Merry."

"I'm Pippin."

"I am Sam, Sam I am, and I like green eggs and ham!"

Mike-All looked at him funny. "… … …Right. Anyway, if any of you want my number, now's your last chance to ask." Nobody spoke up. He cleared his throat. "LAST CHANCE!" Still no takers. "Oh, come on!"

But Strider was done changing and was walking out from behind the rock…with no pants. He realized his mistake, put the pants on, and proceeded like he was going to before he realized his fatal mistake.

"Bring it on!"


End file.
